


Hooch

by FrozenMemories



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bunker Life, Developing Friendships, Drinking, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenMemories/pseuds/FrozenMemories
Summary: Not everything in the bunker was badTumblr fic prompt: How about showing a lighter time inside the bunker? Featuring the rec room and booze
Relationships: Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller, Octavia Blake/Niylah
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stormkpr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormkpr/gifts).



“Niylah is trustworthy,” Jackson’s words still ring in his ears as he meets with the grounder woman in an empty utility room to negotiate. Because Niylah is also the only one down here who can actually put this stint together and get hold of all the makings they’re going to need.

There’s hardly any edible leftovers of any kind, food’s a sacred resource after all, but they’re willing to make sacrifices for a little bit of hooch.

“It’s Monty’s recipe.”

Another sacred thing. One Niylah can’t even begin to grasp but Miller feels the need to share this with her anyway. She nods respectfully – maybe she does understand.

~

Brewing the pruno takes patience and requires a lot of faith in their new friend. But Miller hasn’t been drunk in what’s starting to feel like forever and he absolutely trusts Jackson’s opinion on his nurse-in-training. He sure hopes it’s worth the risk.

Niylah surprised him at fist, when she didn’t demand a price. Her deal was fair and simple – they work together and share the harvest. He’s perfectly okay with that.

~

Miller groans.

He has his nose buried in a classic novel written in such antiquated English that he doesn’t even get into the basic plot. And to be honest he’s much more interested in watching Jackson read in the seat across from him, genuinely engrossed in a book twice as thick as Miller’s.

Sometimes he wonders what a literate and intelligent man like Jackson sees in him – other than his pretty face and nimble fingers. But he won’t question his luck. Instead he swore to cherish and protect Jackson at all costs.

He’s just about to try and start on his last sentence for the third time when a hand taps his shoulder.

Niylah winks at him and lifts the flap of her coat, revealing a dark bottle. He nudges Jackson’s ankle with his foot to get his attention.

Jackson grins, and that alone is worth every rule they’ve bent.

~

The library is empty, it’s late and it probably helps that a majority of wonkru never learned how to read.

“To Monty,” Miller toasts with the first sip, before they pass the bottle around between them. The liquid is burning down his throat harshly and he can’t keep his face from contorting in displeasure. Niylah and Jackson both mirror his grimace when they take a swig, each.

~

A loud burp from Niylah has the three of them in stitches. Miller snatches the bottle out of her hand with false indignation. “I think you’ve had enough, my friend,” he slurs, then puts it to his lips.

Jackson cackles and barely manages to suppress a burp of his own. It comes out as a mix between a snort and a hiccup. His eyes are shiny and it occurs to Miller that he’s never seen his boyfriend so uninhibited.

“You too, boo,” he grins and slaps Jackson’s hand away when he reaches for the nearly empty drink.

“You’re not even of legal age, babe,” Jackson reminds him with a lopsided grin, “You don’t get to tell us how much we can handle.”

“I’ll remind you of that next time we sneak off into the engine ro-,” he stops mid-word and immediately sobers up when he realizes he’s just spilled their best kept secret in front of a third party. Niylah only laughs though.

“The engine room, interesting,” she giggles, looking back and forth between them with a suggestive smirk.

Miller presses his lips together defiantly while Jackson blushes without contributing anything helpful.

“Don’t worry,” Niylah exclaims with an exaggerated hush, “You’re secret’s safe with me.”

She motions zipping her lips and gives them a genuine smile.

Miller exhales.

Jackson belches and soon they all collapse into another fit of giggles.

~

It rarely happens that the three of them get the same off-shift hours, rarer even for it to happen at times the rec room is void of other people. And yet they manage to make it a routine to meet in the library to break out a new bottle whenever they can scrape up the ingredients.

Life in the bunker is still dreary and awful but their little get-togethers make it temporarily bearable.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, that’s on Oct-,” he pauses to correct himself, “Blodreina.”

They’re all still struggling to adjust to calling her that. And not for the first time Miller wishes things were different and they could just invite Octavia along. Not Blodreina, but the girl he met at the dropship camp. The fierce little sister of Bellamy Blake. The brave one. The girl who put her own life on the line to save them – time and time again.

From the looks of it Niylah has similar thoughts, but they’re both painfully aware that her role, the sacrifice she made for them, prevents her from knowing about these secret gatherings, let alone participating.

“She…” Niylah sighs and shakes her head. Whenever the topic turns toward Wonkru’s ruthless leader there is something shifting in Niylah’s expression. Barely noticeable to the occasional bystander but Miller’s been paying a lot of attention to his friend. Jackson’s seen it, too. They’ve shared their suspicions on more than one hushed late night conversation, spooned in their bunk bed but unable to sleep.

Niylah chooses not to finish her thought but her expression speaks volumes.

“What exactly are you anyway?”

Miller looks up in surprise at Jackson’s straightforward question. It must be the booze talking, it always loosens his tongue. Niylah’s eyes go wide with panic for a moment and then her shoulders sag and she lets out a long and weary exhale.

“Damn if I knew.”

“What do you want it to be?” Jackson prods, sensing that Niylah is on the verge of opening up.

Her head tilts back against the wall and she closes her eyes, looking resigned.

“What does it matter? She’s bloody Blodreina.”

Miller feels his heart ache for the both of them. He knows how hard it is to get by in this place, and he has the moral and emotional support of Jackson. 

“But are you – do you?” he falters, afraid to push too hard or sound offensive but needing to confirm his suspicion about the pair. “There’s something between you, isn’t there?” He eventually asks.

She shrugs. It’s neither denial nor a confirmation, but it’s enough for Miller to dig deeper.

“She obviously cares for you,” he provides gently.

“And you for her,” Jackson adds.

Niylah rubs at her eyes and sighs again, “It’s not that simple.”

“Have you tried to make it simple?” In his booze-addled state of mind his statement makes perfect sense. One and one makes two. That equation worked for him and Jackson, too.

“How?” Niylah asks, because apparently for her it doesn’t.

“Talk to her?” Jackson suggests matter-of-factly.

“Like I – She – She can’t.”

“Because she’s Blodreina?” Jackson sounds almost as dejected as Niylah does now, his compassion clearly showing on his face.

Niylah snags the bottle from Miller’s hand and stares at it for a long, hard moment.

“Because she’s broken in ways impossible to fix,” she eventually says in a small voice.

Jackson nods while the statement hangs heavy in the air between them.

Miller thinks about Octavia. The girl who was full of wonder, who defied her brother just so she could take care of the wounded man they held prisoner in the dropship, and who snuck off into the woods to be with him.

“You should both have a little more faith in her,” he states firmly; wanting, needing to believe that Octavia is still there beneath the war paint and unforgiving exterior. He’s seen the sparks of affection in her eyes.

“She’s damaged for sure but not beyond repair.” He looks at Niylah intently, “She just needs someone to reach out to her, to save her from herself.”

“Me?” Niylah's expression is doubtful. She’s clutching the bottle to her chest as if it had some sort of reassurance to offer.

Miller nods firmly and offers her a smile.

“She needs you.”

He looks over to Jackson for support and finds it – as usual.

“He’s right,” Jackson says, eyes turned toward Niylah, “if there’s anyone down here who can save her it’s you.”

Niylah lets the conversation sink in. She takes another swig and passes the bottle back to Miller.

“Guess I better go save my Queen,” she resolves with a slight slur as she drags herself up and sways on her feet.

“Oh no,” Miller is quick to interject, “That’s not the kind of conversation you should have while drunk.”

He motions for Jackson to see if the halls are clear before he follows, a steadying arm thrown around Niylah’s thin frame.

“You can talk to her tomorrow.”

Between the two of them they manage to escort Niylah safely back into her bunk to sleep off her intoxication.

She offers them a tired smile, eyes barely slits.

“Thanks, boys,” she mumbles, "I really 'preciate your advice."

And soon she’s out like a light.


End file.
